Life Lessons
by Lilac Summers
Summary: Someone important has mysteriously been returned to the TARDIS. This leads to Amy's horrifying realization that she's growing up. Implied Donna/Eleven in case that's not your cup of tea . This will eventually become the master post of the "His Universe" series. "A Place to Rest Your Head" now cross-posted under here, too.
1. Chapter 1: Life Lessons

Title: Life Lessons  
>Author: Lilac Summers<br>Rating: PG

Author's notes: I keep finding myself writing in Amy's POV. Dunno, maybe it makes me like her a smidge (tiny smidge, that is) more? Also, I think it would be fascinating to watch Donna and Eleven in action. Anywho - this is the story of Donna returning to the TARDIS, mid season 5. General freakouts occur all around. Prequel to **His Universe**.

* * *

><p>Amy's growing up.<p>

She realizes this when she has the epiphany that _not everything is about her._

Wow, shocker.

* * *

><p>It starts with Amy standing in the TARDIS control room, quiet and out of the way, watching the Doctor and Rory fawn over somebody else. Well, not "fawn" so much as "try to make sure she doesn't die some strange horrible death."<p>

Still, from where Amy is standing, it looks suspiciously like fawning.

The Doctor has the sonic screwdriver out; it's been over ten minutes and he still hasn't stopped scanning the new passenger sitting on the jump seat, even amongst the loud demands to "quit!"

Rory is doing his nurse!Rory routine, taking the woman's pulse, shining a light in her eyes. The redhead is just barely keeping herself from verbally abusing him same as she's doing the Doctor; Amy figures that's because she's barely met Rory and is trying to be polite. But her voice is raising in volume and she's throwing out shrill cease and desist orders as though she expects to be obeyed, and speedily.

And that's the thing, ain't it? She, _Amy Pond_, is the resident bossy redhead. That position is filled, thank you very much; the TARDIS doesn't need another mouthy ginger trying to edge in. And those are her boys, _her poncho boys!_ (even if the ponchos are absent right at the moment) - she does not recall giving them permission to fawn quite so enthusiastically over anyone else.

After several months of being the center of attention, Amy is not used to being summarily ignored. _So why_, she asks herself, _the hell am I standing all the way over here and not in the thick of things?_

The answer: because the new redhead's name is Donna and when the Doctor saw her it was as if a mask fell away and Amy was seeing the Doctor's face for the very first time.

Which finds Amy Pond on the outskirts, looking on. Waiting for her boys to remember she's there.

Finally, Donna reaches the end of her (limited) patience. Amy is a fellow redhead; she knows these things. Rory, originally understandably concerned when the Doctor mentioned something about "exploding brains," declares that Donna doesn't seem to be oozing grey matter from her ears. He, not being a redhead but having those ingrained instincts that nurses everywhere seem to have (the ones that save them from projectile vomiting or angrily-thrown bedpans) backs away slowly until he's beside Amy once more.

_Ha!_ thinks Amy, _one poncho boy down._

The Doctor - also not a redhead and sadly lacking the nurse survival instinct - continues to scan an increasingly violent Donna until she manages to successfully smack the sonic away and roars, "STOP BLEEPING ME, SPACEMAN!"

"DONNA NOBLE," he roars right back, all Oncoming Storm-y. "You will let me scan you until I'm sure your brain isn't exploding, and if that takes all day you will sit there like a good little girl and BLOODY LIKE IT!"

Stunned silence fills the console room. Even the TARDIS' constant hum goes on mute. Amy has never seen the Doctor actually lose his temper enough to curse and/or shout at anyone. Apparently, Donna's not used to it either because her mouth is opening and closing like a brightly-colored landed fish.

"Did you...did you just shout at me? And...and call me a _little girl_?" she asks in disbelief.

The Doctor sets his jaw and determinedly goes back to sonicking.

Donna's lips purse into a stubborn pout but she doesn't try to smack the Doctor's screwdriver away again, smart woman. "Least I'm not the one who regenerated into a teenager," she mutters, needing the last word. Pause. "And your hair is still stupid."

If the Doctor clenches his jaw any harder, he's going to chip a tooth, Amy muses. That would just be a shame; he has lovely teeth.

Then Amy is back to watching another boring 5 minutes of yawn-inducing scanning, but at least Rory is beside her now to share in the boredom.

Blessedly, the 'whir whir whir' of the sonic finally stops, the Doctor finishing kneeling at Donna's feet. _Marvelous, now we know Donna's feet won't explode either_. Color her ecstatic.

Donna must be having similar thoughts. "Satisfied then?"

The Doctor looks up at Donna, Donna looks down at him, when suddenly all that scary determined purpose seems to drain out of the Doctor and his shoulders sag limply and he's burying his head in Donna's lap and wrapping his long arms around her hips so tightly that Donna is edged forward on the jump seat and _oh my god Amy thinks he might be crying._

It takes a beat, but then Donna is fisting her hand in his 'stupid' hair and folding over him as if she might shield him from the universe.

They're having a friggin' honest-to-god, straight-from-the-films _moment_. Amy blindly reaches for Rory's hand, blinking and swallowing back foolish sentimental tears.

This is when the epiphany strikes. She gets it: she's down to just one poncho boy 'coz _sometimes other people are so much more important than just her_, and that's okay. The Doctor was Donna's Spaceman long, long before he was Amy's Raggedy Doctor, and he never really stopped.

fin


	2. Chapter 2: A Place to Rest Your Head

**A Place to Rest Your Head**  
><em>His Univers series, chapter 2<em>  
>Author: Lilac Summers<br>Rating: PG

A/N: This occurs between "Life Lessons" and "His Universe." At some point I'm going to try to consolidate the stories. If you haven't, read "Life Lessons" first, or this won't make sense.

* * *

><p>"Donna saved the whole of creation," the Doctor begins as way of introduction. Amy casts one dubious glance Donna's way, one not unnoticed by either Donna or Rory.<p>

Amy and Rory share the jump seat, looking up at the pacing Doctor - two kids ready for story time, thinks Donna. Rory is already awestruck; Amy is reserving judgement and not so impressed quite yet.

"So did I," Amy reminds them, grandly.

"No, Amy," the Doctor's gaze is kind, and Amy rankles.

"Looked like I did, from where I was sitting - in my wedding dress! - imagining you back from an exploding TARDIS, you ungrateful-"

"You saved me, and you saved this Universe, and you are wonderful. Only you could have re-imagined the whole Universe. But that was this universe and there are countless others out there, parallel universes created by every important choice made differently. Donna saved all of it, everyone, everything, everywhere and everywhen. 'The most important woman in all of creation.'" He moves his arms expansively, performing a silly little twirl that doesn't seem to bother Amy or Rory, but leaves Donna with her brow furrowed incredulously as if to say _twirling? You twirl now?_

"I haven't saved much of anything yet," Rory soothes a grumpy Amy, in his awkward and adorable Rory way, too modest to count standing sentinel over his wife and the Pandorica for two thousand years as anything of much note.

"That just means it's your turn next," she snarls.

"Yeah, no pressure," he mutters.

And so the Doctor continues with his story, and Donna edges away, quietly and - she thinks - unseen. Though Amy tracks the Doctor's eyes following her, even if he doesn't say a word as she disappears from the room.

By the end of the tale, Amy is impressed ... and intimidated as well as utterly confused. If Donna was such a special snowflake, why had Amy never heard this story before? She knew about Martha, who'd walked the earth for a year. She knew about Rose, the Bad Wolf who lived in a different universe, left babysitting a human Doctor. She knew about Romana, Susan, and hot Captain Jack, along with countless others.

But she had never known about Donna.

* * *

><p>Later, when Amy walks into the TARDIS kitchen and sees Donna Noble already sitting at the table, she almost turns right back around.<p>

But Amy reminds herself that_ she is Amy Pond!_ And Amy Pond is not going to be run out of her own kitchen just because she feels intimidated by a woman who apparently had the Doctor's huge brain stuffed into her human head and survived. _She saved the Universe!_ a little voice inside her squeaks. _And I imagined it back, _she tells herself firmly.

And as is the case with Amy (and the other redhead in the room, though Amy doesn't know it yet,) when she finds herself intimidated she resolves to go on the offensive. With this girding of loins, she marches over to the table and sits down, radiating waves of _so there. _

She snags a cup of tea and then sulks over it, casting covert glances at the other woman, who is so deep in thought she seems to not even notice she's no longer alone. This makes Amy, for some unknown reason, angrier.

"He never mentioned you," she finally hurls out accusingly, when the silence has dragged too long. As if it's Donna's fault.

Donna looks up distractedly. "Oh? I'm not surprised." She takes a sip of her tea.

Amy deflates at the quiet answer and fidgets under Donna's gaze. There's something about it that reminds her of the Doctor; a hint of galaxies turning behind the changeable green-blue. "You're not?"

"Not really, no. He hates talking about anyone. Figure you haven't heard about Rose, or Martha, either. Or Sarah Jane, or-"

"But I have."

Surprise now, for the first time. "You have?"

"Yes," Amy says, and relishes the answer as she watches Donna's eyebrows raise in disbelief. "He tells me - has told me - everything. We've been traveling together for a while now, y'know. I've heard all the stories and explored all the guest rooms; he named each one when I asked. But he never mentioned _yours_. I've never even seen _your _room," she points out.

"Oh," murmurs Donna.

Amy feels triumphant for a second before she notices that the emotion in Donna's eyes isn't superiority, as she'd imagined, but deeply-buried hurt. She begins to feel as if she's kicking someone who's already down.

Donna's hands clench around her cup, knuckles white. "So this new, tweedy version is more talkative than mine, eh? Well, not a big deal," she says quietly, almost to herself. "We were just mates. Just good mates."

It occurs to Amy, finally, that Donna - who saved creation, who found the Doctor multiple times out of all of space and time, who slapped and shouted at him as if she could make him behave by will alone - is really just a woman who looks as if she's lost her best friend.

"I...the TARDIS is really big," states Amy stupidly. In there somewhere is the unstated apology of _I'm sure we just never got to it_.

Donna shoots her a wan smile, like she appreciates the attempt. "Well, it used to be right across from his. Let's hope it just got shuffled around." She flings back her hair, striving for a nonchalance that doesn't fool Amy one bit. "I think I left my favorite pair of earrings in there."

Neither one of them mentions that the wall across from the Doctor's room is blank now. Amy, in a rare moment of mature sympathy, bites back the urge to tell Donna that, as long as Amy has been in the TARDIS, that wall has always been empty and Donna's room ever missing, and no shuffling of rooms or remodeling of the TARDIS has ever made it different.

* * *

><p>Donna wanders down to the halls housing the bedrooms. She'd noticed it before, of course, when she'd left the group to their story time: the blank wall where her door used to be. But she had simply assumed her room had been moved farther down the hall. Making room for the new, so to speak. After all, Martha's room had been forever away, and Rose's room had practically been leagues down the hallway when she started traveling with the Doctor. Running away from his most painful memories, even on his own ship. But if this Doctor actually tells Amy everything, and Amy has never heard of her, and he hasn't even kept her room...<p>

She touches the unfamiliar copper wall carefully, gives a soft mental query to the TARDIS of _Was I not worth remembering? _But hears nothing back, the shifting of coral she was so used to now long gone and covered by unfamiliar copper walls.

It could all be a misunderstanding, she tries to convince herself. As Amy pointed out, the TARDIS is so huge who knew where her comfortable room had ended up.

She begins her trek down the endless hall. There's a long expanse of blank wall, a new, very concrete separation between his room and the beginning of the guest bedrooms. Ah, that one must be Amy's and Rory, the big double doors. Then a curve in the wall and the empty rooms begin. Sarah Jane's, Jack's, Rose's, Martha's - all shuffled happily closer, with no rhyme or reason, in that brief, beautiful moment when the Children of Time had been together again. The hall loops, turns a corner, and she's passing in seemingly random order by Peri's, Turlough's, Ace's, Romana's - names he spoke of so fondly, and she remembered them all because the love in his voice touched her, that he treasured them so well.

She makes countless turns, passes doors of all colors and materials, climbs up and down flights of stairs until she's breathless before she gives up. It's not here; she'd known it the instant Amy had mentioned it.

Since there's no one here to see her and she doesn't have to act strong anymore, she lets her legs collapse to slide down the wall and she curls up. The doubt and hurt and exhaustion she's been fighting all day drag her down. Should she have even come back? To an unknown Doctor and an unknown TARDIS and new (no, not new - they'd been here longer than Donna ever had) companions who had so obviously made a happy home with this mad, brilliant Doctor? What could she possibly offer when she was so obviously unneeded and not missed?

She wraps her arms around her legs so she can rest her chin on her knees and stares at another blank wall in a fit of uncharacteristic melancholy. _If I stay, maybe my room can be here. The TARDIS will build another for me. I can start over, find my new place, fill it with new memories. And it will be quiet down here._

She tells herself firmly she is not going to cry if he forgot her after making her forget him.

Of course people - even Time Lords - move on, and change, and grow. And if it can't be the same, maybe it can still be good, in time. _I'm back now, that's all that matters_, she lies to herself

She hadn't been expecting a running-in-slow-motion, get-shot-by-a-Dalek-out-of-sheer-stupidity-for-chr ist's-sake-we're-in-the-middle-of-a-war type of reunion. Of course not. She hadn't even been sure he would welcome her back. But she thought at least she wouldn't have been forgotten so thoroughly, discarded so easily.

She lays her head on her knees and sits there for minutes (hours? who knew) before she's raised abruptly by the sound of feet running down the hall.

"Donna? Donna!" Gangly hands are reaching for her, lifting her up for a hug that's awkward and fumbly, like he doesn't know what to do with all the length in those gorilla arms of his. "There you are! I've been looking for you."

She pushes back and steps away. His hands are left grasping, doing that strange fluttery thing that apparently is "his thing" in this body. Talks with his hands, this one does. His eyes look wide and panicked in the low light of the ship.

"What? Didya think I got lost in this tin can?" Donna scoffs, all bluster.

"No, I-" his hands flutter by her face and she backs off, wary. His hands form into fists and fall to his sides. "I couldn't find you. I thought you'd left."

She chokes out a laugh. "In _space_? Where would I go?"

"You do seem to come and go as you please," says the Doctor, referring no doubt to her strange ability to find him. But the sentence falls into heavy awkwardness as they are both struck by the thought that the last time she left it most certainly hadn't been at her pleasure.

A strained silence descends and it's surreal and just plain odd. They used to be able to fill the silence with so much nonsense.

"What were you doing down here?" he finally asks.

"Oh," Donna tries for flippancy. She probably fails miserably, she muses, but it was the thought that counted. "I was looking for a room to take up." She swallows. There's a lump in her throat trying to strangle her; she hates making a sentimental fool of herself. "I couldn't find my old room."

The Doctor's face (so new now, so different) crumples (and that's the same as always), lines of distress around his eyes finally giving a clue to his real age.

"Oh. Your room. Donna, I-"

She doesn't want to hear them, all the probable excuses:_ I forgot. The ship changed and it was gone. All the other rooms stayed but yours had to go. _"Doesn't matter!" she waves him off cheerfully. "The TARDIS will make me a new one, right? I was thinking...I was thinking down here would be nice. Kinda quiet, and, dear god, away from the newlyweds! God knows I don't need to be close to any strange noises in the night, know what I mean?"

"Donna," he tries to interject again.

_I don't want to hear it_. "It'll take some getting used to, the copper instead of the coral. Figures she'd pick something that clashes horribly with my hair-"

"Donna!"

"Yeah, wot?" she bites out in her best stroppy tone.

"I need to show you something." He snags her hand (and oh, that feels just the same) and draws her up the hallway, backtracking around corners and hallways and stairs, past those many doors that stand like sentinels - little pieces of his past, much-loved but long gone. Martha and Jack and Sarah Jane and Rose. Rory and Amy (and she hears giggling through the thick doors), then an expanse of empty copper sheeting before they're back to the beginning with the Doctor's closed door and the blank wall in front of it.

Donna had half been expecting her door to have miraculously reappeared on that wall. But there was still nothing there.

The Doctor stops and slowly lets go of her hand. She touches that wall again, remembers the feeling of an old-fashioned knob under her fingers, the vibrant red of the door.

During the time of the memory wipe, she had insisted on painting her bedroom door back home that exact same shade of red. It had made her feel safe. _See_, she sends the message to the TARDIS, _I didn't forget, not all the way. You could have made him wait for me. Just for a little._

She feels the Doctor shuffle up closer behind her back. She blinks, hard, to clear the stupid sentimental tears.

"You didn't have to get rid of it," escapes her in a rush. Oh God, how she hates herself that she couldn't hold the accusation in.

He startles behind her.

"My room," she clarifies. "You could have just shuffled it down the hall like everyone else's, right? You didn't have to get rid of it just because it stopped serving a purpose. There's plenty of space, it wouldn't have made a difference. You remember for everyone else, why wouldn't you even try to keep a little for me?" She'd striven to sound no more than curious, but there had been no hiding the hurt undertones as the words fell from her lips until the last were almost a shout.

"Hush," he says softly, so very softly and low that it's worse than shouting. "Just hush for one second." His hands are on her arms, turning her around to face his room and before she can pull away or argue more, he's opening the door and...

It's hers.

Her room. Her mish-mash of exotic carpets, her soft gold walls, her lavender sheets on the big sleigh bed, her overstuffed reading chair, her left-behind souvenirs on the table, her half-finished book still open to the last page she read, resting on the nightstand. Hers.

And it's his. A slew of mechanical parts on the floor, a haphazard collection of manuscripts by the bed, three different types of spanners on the vanity, an array of empty teacups scattered about and the lavender sheets rumpled instead of smoothed.

She walks in slowly, edging aside bolts and pieces of wire with her foot. "I don't understand," she admits, turning to him. He hovers by the door nervously. "Your room is always here. That's your door. Why is my room on this side? Where is your room now?"

"Emptied, gone. I hadn't used it in months and yours was just..." he gulps loudly at her incredulous look and then squares his shoulders with new resolve. "If you think about it, Noble, I was really only being practical. No need to keep my room about when yours was so much nicer. Always did think the TARDIS was unfairly fond of you - look!" He points at the reading chair accusingly. "She gave you a comfy chair! _I _never had a comfy chair. And then I was turning the wrong direction so often that the TARDIS finally shifted your room here." He tugs on his braces in a move she realizes is embarrassment, then stuffs his hands decisively into his pockets.

It doesn't explain why all her things are still strewn about as if she might reappear at any moment, pick up that book and get to the long-awaited ending. She takes a slow turn around the space, her chest suffusing with warmth as some of that cold doubt begins to melt.

Still, she's not willing to let him off the hook quite that easily, so she keeps a mocking eye on him as she taps a perfume bottle."And you kept all this because...?"

"Well, yes, that, uh...smells lovely on me. I've always been a freesia type of Time Lord."

She nods in acceptance, then moves to the nightstand to stare pointedly down at her abandoned book.

"I - I've been reading that. Great book, grand story. Love it," he defends awkwardly.

She turns her head to look at him, the last dregs of sadness drowned under a wave of fond amusement. "Oh, really. What's your favorite part?" She picks up the book and leafs through it idly.

"Ooooh, so many to choose from I can't even begin to name them!"

"Yeah? Personally, my favorite part is where Pirate Longjohnson realizes his wildly attractive cabin boy George is conveniently really nubile Georgina," she drawls, snapping it closed. "Though would've been better if the chap had simply admitted he was gay. Anyway, didn't think_ Passion's Voyage _was your typical reading material, what with all the extremely explicit shagging in it."

The Doctor colors vividly and clears his throat. "As I said, lovely story. Touching, really."

"Yeaaah," she carefully sets the book down, then sinks onto the bed.

Her fingers run over the wrinkled sheets. It's a little surreal, seeing these lavender sheets after so long. She really hopes he's laundered them at least once. The thought makes her snort in laughter.

"What?!" he demands, suspicious.

"Nothing, nothing. I just," she bites back another bit of laughter that is more hysterical relief than actual humor. "I thought you'd left my room to rot and dumped it first chance. I thought you'd forgotten me."

He makes a little sound of denial, shifting awkwardly in his too-short trousers. "I wouldn't."

_But I did. You made me_. Almost as if he can read her mind, his shoulders slump tiredly. Even if the her doubt is fading, Donna knows the anger is still there, and that the accusation is clear in her eyes. They have so very much to talk about. But not quite yet.

Besides, the sight of those slumped shoulders is more than she can bear right now. She takes a deep breath and flops backward onto the soft mattress. "But now I realize instead you've just been cluttering it up with empty teacups and wrinkling my sheets! Don't know which is worse, really," she teases, as a peace offering.

He makes another little noise, this one of affront and hurt dignity, though his eyes are glittering back at her and the slump is gradually disappearing from those broad shoulders. She purses her lips in feigned thought, sitting up and leaving the bed to make her way to him again.

"So this is what you do now? Read romance novels, kidnap married couples, steal other people's rooms and dress worse than my grandfather? A bowtie? Seriously?"

"Bowties are cool," he protests so quickly that Donna doesn't doubt it's an oft-repeated refrain.

"Oh gawd no, they really aren't." She adjusts it for him, feeling his gaze burn into the top of her head. She steps back and smacks his chest - none too gently - to indicate she's finished. "But if you're going to wear that monstrosity at least make sure it's straight."

He recovers from the smack, rubbing his chest ruefully, and finally meets her gaze. "I'm glad you're back, Donna," he says very quietly.

"Yeah. S'm I," she says, just as quietly. Then she smiles toothily and slaps a hand on his chest again, marching him back two crucial steps.

"Now get your own room," she says, and closes the door in his face.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued...<strong>

Rory says review!


	3. Chapter 3: Live Long and Prosper

Title: Live Long and Prosper  
><em>His Universe series, Chapter 3<br>_Author: Lilac Summers  
>Rating: PG 13<p>

* * *

><p>It's her first official stop after she came back to the TARDIS. She doesn't count the previous one, where they had landed on Earth and she had been sternly grounded on the TARDIS, lest she cause a paradox or have her head explode or some other stupid reason the Doctor gave for her not being 'ready' for an adventure just yet.<p>

But she isn't going to be denied this time, especially since she's been promised another planet. Donna is failing spectacularly at acting cool as she waits by a strut, trying not to wriggle in excitement. Normally she wouldn't have cared, but she's all too aware that it's no longer just her and the Doctor.

As soon as the TARDIS settles she's at the doors, determined to be the one to open them. She looks over her shoulder, impatient, to find Rory smiling at her, Amy studiously looking away.

And the Doctor, gazing at her with the sort of warm amusement she was used to seeing on a different face.

But she's not going to think about that.

She flings the doors wide, gets a face-full of sunshine and sea breezes, and gasps. Dear god, he actually did it; he brought her to a beach!

She steps out and just basks for a moment. She's on a new world, in a new time, and she feels her shriveled, starved sense of adventure finally breathe. It doesn't matter that the sand is your basic sand color, the water and sky are blue...that she could be on a beach on earth as far as her eyes are concerned. It feels different to her. Full of possibilities for fun or mayhem, or both.

She's so engrossed in enjoying the feel of sun and sound of surf, she's startled by the swish of displaced air as Amy sails past. She's got Rory on one arm and the Doctor on the other.

Donna stares at their moving backs, a rueful twist to her lips.

She doesn't blame the younger girl, not really. She gets it, the feeling of having her position threatened, of thinking "what if I'm here by mistake and he figures it out?" She remembers the feeling well enough. And though she'd loved having Martha along when they'd first met, there had always been that little niggle of doubt; it's hard to compete against so much shared history. Amy apparently couldn't quite grasp the concept that, by now, the Doctor probably had had many more adventures with Amy and Rory than he ever had with Donna. Donna and he had had so little time together before it all went...wrong.

She guesses age really does give you perspective, if nothing else.

Beyond that, Rory is _adorable_, with a core of steel in him that's well-hidden and very appealing. She'd tap that, if he were single and if she wasn't certain Amy would all-out murder her. And if he wasn't a good fifteen years younger than she. _Gawd_, okay, so perspective was great and all, but age did narrow your dating options. She feels every one of her 38 years watching Amy saunter on ahead of her.

The Doctor probably knows all about feeling old, though, and she wonders if his regenerations are looking younger in an attempt to compensate? He was a charming thirty-something-looking beanpole before, and now he's a twenty-something-looking hipster.

She trails behind them. The Doctor alternates wary glances her way and confused glances at Amy._ Hmph_, but apparently age doesn't make the Doctor any wiser when it comes to women.

With a squaring of her shoulders, she decides she's had enough. This is stupid; she's not gonna let petty jealousies ruin her first outing. She had enough of feeling like the new girl as a temp, _thank you very much_. She bounds forward, passing the threesome, and heads straight to the colorful booths along a town square that overlooks pristine water.

"Wait - Donna, don't wander off!" the Doctor warns her and she waves an arm back at him dismissively. Nobody ever listens to _that_ rule, anyway, and she can take care of herself well enough.

Most importantly, she's now in the thick of things, admiring the willowy, multi-armed natives, sniffing out the interesting scents of strange foods cooking nearby. The bazaar-like atmosphere reminds her suddenly and poignantly of Shan Shen: how much she and the Doctor had laughed, and how it had been the beginning of the end. She feels tears prick at her eyes and compensates by moving into the throng faster.

She continues to ignore fainter and fainter calls from the Doctor as she wanders deeper into the crowd. She snags a sample of something that looks like shrimp (she really, _really_ hopes it's shrimp), weaving around pockets of aliens who are much taller than she and hardly notice her as she passes.

Finally, she meets a friendly stall keeper who beguiles her over with a cart-full of colorful textiles. She's knee-deep in trade negotiations (the Tic-Tacs in her pocket for a lovely teal afghan) when another native bumps roughly into her, turns, and then gasps when he gets a clear look at her.

"DoctorDonna!" it cries, waving his (or was it a her?) four arms in the air.

The nice alien chap trading with her freezes in his negotiations. He fishes around in his robes for an interesting visor-looking thingy that Donna realizes are specs, and when he puts them on he peers at her in sudden horror. Before Donna quite knows what is happening, he's prostrating himself in front of her and begging her to take the afghan as a humble gift.

In a blink, so much faster than she thought possible, a crowd is building around her. She backs up, confused and scared, as the chanting of "DoctorDonna!" increases and the natives start to pluck at her clothing and hair with their many hands.

"No, listen, I'm just Donna. I'm not..."

The afghan is shoved into her arms, trinkets pushed over her head, and with no warning she's being lifted up and carried along overhead by a growing procession, merchants and clients abandoning their booths and people streaming in from alleyways.

"DONNA!"

Donna cranes her neck, sees the Doctor, Amy and Rory trying to fight their way into the crowd. "Doctor!" she calls, panicked.

He's trying to shoulder his way to her, but more natives keep joining the crowd from the fringes, coming out of nearby buildings and tidy homes as the word spreads. The square has become an honest-to-god mob, with her the center as she body surfs the crowd. The Doctor shoots her a frantic look. "Donna! Command them to stop!"

She's not sure that's going to work but she twists around anyway and grasps the wrists of the hands currently beneath her. "Stop!" she cries.

The native beneath her, and the crowd around them, immediately stills. "P-put me down."

She's lowered tentatively from above until she's being held at chest level, her feet swinging a good foot from the ground.

She tries her most imperious frown. "All the way down," she commands.

Reluctantly she's lowered until her feet touch the ground, but now everyone around her goes down on their knees, foreheads to the floor. It causes a ripple effect, a slow-receding wave as everyone drops to the floor. Finally it's just her in a vast courtyard surrounded by a genuflecting four-armed crowd, and the Doctor, Rory and Amy picking their way to her.

When the Doctor reaches her, he grabs her hand fiercely and begins to tug her away. The crowd protests, one raising wail of "DoctorDonna! Do not abandon us without your blessing!"

And just like that, Donna feels very foolish for panicking. Panicking at what, after all? Crowd surfing and getting merchandise shoved at her? She's had worse at the local pub on a Saturday! Besides, she's been dragged into cells at gunpoint, tied down to sacrificial altars, and hurled into a burning cauldron - yet here she is acting like a rank amateur.

She digs in her heels and the Doctor is forced to a stop, as well. He tugs insistently on her arm but she ignores him.

"Um," she clears her throat nervously. The natives, still prostrated, tilt their heads upwards and stare at her with huge, hopeful eyes.

"You have a lovely planet and I'm glad I was able to help in not, uh, getting you all erased from reality, or whatever," she says lamely.

Enthralled eyes continue to look up at her and Donna tries not to shrivel in embarrassment. She realizes she's still clutching the afghan and various other goods.

"Thank you for the gifts but I don't need to take all of this. Here," she tries to hand the bundle to someone closest to her feet, and the poor dear actually squeals and falls back, scrambling away on hands and knees in their haste to move out of reach of the proffered goods.

"No, really, I don't - here," she tries for another hand-off to someone else, and this one clasps all four hands tightly behind their back.

"Ooo-kay. Look, then take this. You can all share it or save it or, I dunno, use it as a maraca. Sorry, s'not much but it's all I'm carrying." She fishes the little container of Tic-Tacs out of her pocket and hands it to another person at her feet. The alien looks at the plastic bottle, dumbfounded, and then tears of joy stream from his (yes, yes it's definitely a he...maybe) eyes. He stands and raises the Tic-Tacs into the air, arms waving, shaking the little bottle. A chorus of "oohs" rises from the crowd, everyone  
>now raising their multiple arms to wave them in sync.<p>

The Doctor is about ready to rip her own arm off, he's pulling so hard, so she gives a final little wave and wracks her brain on how to finish up. "So, I gotta be going now. Lovely to meet you all, really must make time for tea next time, thanks again and...live long and prosper?"

The crowd breaks into wild cheers, punctuated by "we love you, DoctorDonna!" and a few more trinkets thrown her way. It's rather, she thinks, like a more profitable version of Mardi Gras, and without her even having to flash her breasts.

She juggles her armful of loot until she's beside Amy and Rory, who helpfully take a share as the Doctor determinedly herds them all back to the TARDIS. He snaps his fingers and the doors open (show off!). Amy and Rory hustle through before he's pulling her in, as well.

"Ow," she hisses her protest, tugging at her wrist to no avail. "Pull my arm off why dontcha. I've only got the two, unlike our alien friends, and I'd rather keep them. What's your hurry anyway, I really wanted a dip in that ocean and I-"

The TARDIS doors slam shut and he suddenly rounds on her, merchandise flying when she's backed up against a wall. His lanky form traps her there.

"What did I tell you!" he shouts at her.

Donna's eyes go wide. Rory and Amy freeze on their way up the stairs, and slowly edge back down to take a seat at the console, avidly watching.

"Oi! Don't you shout at me!"

"WHAT DID I SAY!" he roars.

"I DON'T KNOW!" she roars back. "YOU SAY SO MANY STUPID THINGS IT'S HARD TO KEEP TRACK!"

"Don't. Wander. Off!" He smacks a hand hard against the wall in punctuation. It makes her jump, which just makes her angrier. "You aren't new at this, Donna - it's rule number one!"

"Oh, like anyone listens to _that_ one!" she defends, then drills a finger into his chest. "Back the fuck off!"

The old Doctor, her Doctor, would have done so. Would have stomped around and pulled his hair and then gone off to sulk, but he would definitely have backed off.

This Doctor does not. He looms closer, and his tone becomes jarringly conversational, which doesn't match the seething anger in his eyes and makes it that much more scary. "I didn't expect I'd have to babysit you like a child."

Donna fumes. "Back it up or prepare for a slap, Space_boy_," she drawls out as a purposeful reminder of how ridiculously young he looks now. As if _he_ can pull that attitude on _her_!

"Just you try it, Noble, and we'll see how that goes," he responds dangerously.

_Is he threatening her?!_ The Ponds gape, enthralled, until she turns her head to catch them in her glare. "And what are you two gawping at?!" she demands.

The Doctor instinctively looks their way and with his attention diverted she takes the opportunity to slap him, quite spectacularly, across the face.

The Ponds gasp and the Doctor rears back, stumbling a few steps cos yeah, she's still got it. He stares at her, incredulously. "I can't believe you actually slapped me."

"You deserved it, you git. Who do you think you are, threatening me?!"

His face goes thunderous, but she cuts off the impending explosion by advancing on him, so he's now the one being crowded back. "Oh, put a lid on it, Oncoming Scowl. I wasn't afraid of you when you were a beanpole; I'm certainly not going to be afraid of you now that you're a hipster Cro-Magnon."

The Scowl disappears in a wave of hurt pride. "I beg your pardon?" he demands stiffly, affronted, smoothing his palms down his jacket lapels as though to reassure himself that the ugly old thing is indeed the height of fashion.

"You can beg all you want, with your tweed jacket and floppy hair and gigantic forehead - it don't give you no right to get shouty with me!"

"Oh, but you have the right to be shouty with me!" he shouts.

"I've always been shouty! You knew that going in!" she shouts in return.

"Well maybe now this me is shouty, just like the other me was rude!" he shouts back.

"Don't kid yourself, you're still rude. And you don't shout at anyone else but me, don't think I haven't noticed!"

The Ponds follow the argument like spectators at a tennis match.

"Maybe that's because you drive me ABSOLUTELY MAD," thunders the Doctor, arms flying wide in frustration.

"S'not fair, is what it is!" cries Donna, still moving forward so she can drill his chest again with a sharp finger. "With them you're all 'Come along, Ponds,'" she says in a simpering sing-song voice, and then throws in a copy of one of his stupid twirls, to add insult to injury. "With me it's 'don't wander off, Donna. Don't touch that Donna, don't go in there, Donna. Your head might still explode, Donna!'"

"Well your head might still explode!"

"From listening to _you_, I almost wish it would!"

She's the one who has backed him up against the console now, pointer finger coming in for a last jab. He finally evades, slithering away with a contortionist move that all but bends him in half, and manages to put the control panel between them. He presses his hands to his head in mounting annoyance. "You're just...urgh, your're just so...so Donna!" he declares.

"And what does that mean? It's too hard now so you wanna send me back? Coz you're awfully good at that," accuses Donna, arms akimbo and radiating threat, so that only Rory notices that her chin trembles.

"No! Of course I don't," denies the Doctor hotly, "though it wouldn't hurt you to listen to me, just for once, so we could avoid a bit of the mayhem!"

"Oh, that's just rich, coming from you. And you never listen to me, so I don't see why I gotta listen to you when all your decisions are sheer IDIOCY!"

"I...they most certainly are not...I.." He falters, all too aware that she's talking about the last decision he made concerning her. The old guilt irritates him, so his long arm reaches out, imperiously pointing to the hall. "Just...go to your room!" he demands.

"_You_ go to _your_ room! Oh, wait - you don't have one! Nyah!"

The Doctor slams a hand down on the dematerialization button, for want of anything to say to that one, and takes pleasure in watching Donna stumble as the TARDIS rocks.

Donna glares at him as she trips, then reaches over without thought and flicks a switch to correct their flight. She misses the Doctor's stunned look, because she's too busy rounding on the Ponds.

"I can't believe you let him get like this!" Donna says angrily at Amy and Rory. They both raise their arms in surrender, before Amy realizes what they're doing and reaches over to bring Rory's arms down, too.

"Like what?" dares Rory.

"More of an enormous pain in the arse than before!"

"Hey, he was like that when we met him, so that's on you!" Amy snaps.

"Then _you_ obviously get more senile with each regeneration!" Donna directs at the Doctor, who still stares at her with huge, shocked eyes.

She's expecting some kind of answer to that, so when he keeps staring at her in silence, she gets a bit nervous. His eyes flicker downwards and she follows the direction of his gaze to where her hand is still securely settled over the stabilization switch - a switch she probably shouldn't know anything about.

"Donna..." he says very softly. Because all at once the room is very very quiet.

She snatches her hand from the console. "I'm going to my room!" she declares, loudly. "And not because you said so!"

She begins to stalk off, senses the Doctor's intention to follow, and whirls around to face him. "And don't you follow me, until you're ready to say you're sorry for being spectacularly wrong. About everything. Again." She stomps up the stairs, pauses at the top to whirl one more time to check he's not following - gives him a double-fingered _I'm watching you _sign - and backs out into the hallway.

The three left in the control room take one very long, very relieved breath.

"Consider yourself thoroughly pwned," Amy says, once she's sure Donna is out of hearing.

The Doctor looks as though he's just survived a siege, and at her words his face twists in dismay. "Yes, Pond. And what now? Do you also want to shout at me, perhaps? Rory, would you like a go?"

"Since you're offering," mutters Rory, until one dark look from his wife shuts him up.

"No, Doctor. I don't think you can handle another row today," says Amy magnanimously.

"Thanks for that, at least."

"Although I do have a question you aren't going to like."

The Doctor takes another steadying breath, straightens his bow-tie and squares his shoulders in an attempt to regain some dignity. "Now that's not true. I love questions, me! Questions are my forte, since I always know the answer. No such thing as a stupid question - scratch that, there is, but I'm sure your question won't be stupid. Fire away!"

Amy stares into his clueless eyes and then let's the bomb drop. "When are you going to tell Donna about River?"

And alas, the Doctor _doesn't_ know the answer to that one. And judging from the gobsmacked look on his face, Amy believes he had forgotten about his erstwhile wife altogether.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

Let me know if you enjoyed it! I'm even thinking of giving Rory more than one line, next chapter. Livin' on the wild side!


	4. Chapter 4: Sparkling Personality

Title: Sparkling Personality  
>Lilac Summers (lilsum4)<br>Rating: PG

A/N: Donna and Amy make friends. The Doctor is concerned about the implications of this.

* * *

><p>Donna has always been a deep sleeper, not someone who can just wake up and go. She's not a morning person, either, and never has been. Even if on the TARDIS there is no actual "morning," her body always insists it feels like the crack of dawn. It generally takes an hour and two cups of good, strong coffee to wake her completely.<p>

And it's such a luxury being able to sleep in without her mother screaming at her to go job hunting that, with the comforting hum of the TARDIS around her, her sleep is so deep and restful that the Doctor would no doubt joke she's practically comatose.

So this particular "morning" she wakes to snippets of dreams of happy times still cycling through her brain: Oods and pinstripes and frothy drinks at alien bazaars. She shrugs on an elaborate ceremonial robe that she filched from a sheik on some sandy planet after she and the Doctor rescued his harem. It's embroidered in gold thread - the sparkles at the bottom may actually be genuine rubies - but it's lined in the most sinfully soft cashmere ever, so she uses it as a dressing gown. She hadn't realized how much she missed it until she was back on the TARDIS with the Doctor and his merry band of hipsters, and found it hanging in her closet.

With a careless swipe at her tangled bed hair, she yawns enormously, feeling particularly dazed as she enters the kitchen. Her mostly-asleep brain registers the thin man with messy hair and thick glasses sitting at the table. Wasps and detoxes still echo in her brain. And, feeling particularly affectionate, she smiles sleepily, mumbles a g'mornin', ruffles his hair and tips up his face to plant a friendly, smacking kiss to his lips, before continuing on to the coffee machine.

She knuckles sleep from her eye and pours herself a huge mug of coffee. She drinks half of it in one go, and tops up her mug again. Feeling a bit more human, now she can afford the patience to add sugar and cream. Another jaw-cracking yawn, and then she's wrapping her hands around the warmth of her mug so she can turn around and lean back on the counter.

To find three people staring at her.

Another redhead, with a spoonful of oatmeal, dripping, frozen halfway to her mouth. A shoddily dressed grandpa wanna-be. And the skinny bloke - who isn't the Doctor at all.

_oh right!_

Rory is blushing a deep red. Amy drops her spoon in her bowl and leans back in her chair, to better cross her arms over her chest and glare at her husband. The Doctor is already mirroring that pose, though he can't seem to decide on whether he should be glaring at Rory or Donna.

"So?" drawls Amy, the Scottish thick and dangerous in that word. "Anything you'd like to tell me, husband?"

"I ...uh...I don't know...?" garbles a flustered Rory.

"Gawd, so sorry," sighs Donna, scrubbing a hand over her face. "M'not at my best in the morning. I thought he was-" she points at the fuming, silent Doctor.

"Ahhhh," exhales Amy in realization, even as she leans over and "wipes" Donna's kiss off her husband with a napkin. Mollified with this new bit of drama, she drops the napkin and turns an interested eye at the other woman. "Was like that, was it? Do tell."

"It was NOT 'like that,'" protests the Doctor, face scrunched in distaste as he grabs the napkin from where Amy dropped it, and also does his level best to wipe Rory's lips clear off his face. Rory snatches the napkin from the Doctor and frowns mightily, until the Doctor subsides.

Battle lost, the Doctor turns his accusation at Donna. "It's never been 'like that,' so why is it 'like that' with poor, defenseless, thoroughly-spoken-for Rory?"

Donna shrugs, unconcerned now that she's sure Amy isn't going to jump out of her chair and attack. The heavy robe slips off her shoulder and she tugs it back up. "I just felt friendly?"

"You aren't ever 'friendly' in the mornings! I was more likely to get a whack in the face for talking too loudly than anything else."

"People can change!" defends Donna, taking another sip of coffee. "Lookit you, you've changed plenty." It's blatantly obvious that she doesn't quite mean that as a compliment, even if her tone is innocent.

"Anyway, Rory, sorry for the," she waves her hand in a vague gesture, "enthusiastic good morning."

Rory side-eyes his wife, judges that she's not taken offense, and smiles at Donna. "My pleasure. Gingers love me."

Amy swats at him playfully. "Quiet. I only married you to make an honest man of you."

Donna giggles, because they really are just precious together. "I could embroider it on a pillow for you: Rory Williams: Ginger Magnet," she teases.

The Doctor stands abruptly, chair clattering behind him. "Rory, it's come to mind that I need your help in the console room."

Rory, busy puffing out his chest under the attention of two attractive women, swivels to send a stunned look the Doctor's way. "You want _my _help?"

"Yes," says the Doctor definitively.

"You are going to let me _touch _the TARDIS?"

"Yes," the Doctor says again.

"Because you need _my_ help?" clarifies Rory once more.

"YES, Rory, I believe I did string all those words together not 10 seconds ago. So please follow me as we have much to do. Chop chop!" The Doctor claps his hands to emphasize the "chop chop", making Donna jump and almost spill her coffee.

The Doctor strides out purposefully, and Rory follows after throwing a baffled look Amy's way. Donna watches them leave over the rim of her cup.

"Are you checking out my husband's arse?" asks Amy, pointblank.

Since there's absolutely no use denying it, Donna gives a blunt, unapologetic, "Yeah."

Amy nods. "It's a good one, right?" she says, inordinately pleased as if she's personally responsible for the tightness of her husband's bum. She mimes a quick grab. "Nice handful, for a skinny bloke."

"He is rather adorable," sighs Donna, amused at Amy's pride. If she'd known the way to make the younger woman open up to her was to hit on her husband, she would have done it ages ago!

"So am I going to have to worry about you accosting my husband anytime he wears glasses?"

"You might?" Donna tilts her head playfully.

Amy grins. Donna grins back and relaxes against the counter, finally feeling like she's found some footing with the younger companion.

"But this morning was a misunderstanding, I assure you. I wouldn't hit on him. Well, not right in front of your face," tries Donna out, hoping this friendly side of Amy will remain.

"Mighty kind of you. And I know you can't help yourself because...he reminds you of what the Doctor was like, before?" hedges Amy, throwing it out there.

Donna buries her nose in her cup in a poor attempt to avoid the question.

"Oh, come on, we're just getting to the good part!" protests Amy when Donna remains mute.

Donna sighs and sets down her cup. She doesn't want to shut down communication when it's the very first time Amy is willing to talk to her without that underlying thread of suspicion.

"I need to get ready for today. Want to," she pauses, feeling suddenly like a teenager asking the popular girl to sit down at her lunch table, "um, want to come to my room? To chat?"

Amy bolts up. "Yes!" she says, so quickly that Donna wonders if maybe Amy has been feeling the same way, too.

Donna smiles, wide and true. "Okay then."

* * *

><p>"I've been meaning to ask - where did you get this fabulous thing?!" Amy inquires, sitting on the edge of Donna's bed. Donna had discarded the robe, and now Amy feels the weight of the material between two fingers. She taps a red stone, gasping, "Are these rubies?!"<p>

Donna drops on the bed beside her. "Yeah, I think so. Nice, huh? You like that, you should see this!" she exclaims, jumping back up to rummage in her closet. Her voice comes out muffled. "Got these from some merpeople."

Amy frowns. "Mermaids? Not a fan. Tried to kidnap Rory. Though to be fair, everyone tries to."

Donna's face pops out, red and ruffled. "Noooooo! Really?! These ones were very nice. Gave me this!"

She comes out wearing an honest-to-goodness shell bra, encrusted with thousands of tiny glittering diamonds, like something out of a swanky lingerie catalog.

"Oh," Amy's eyes widen with proper avarice. "So sparkly!"

"Ain't it?!" Donna jumps up and down, making the light refract all over the room as her breasts bounce. "Couldn't wear it for long, though. The Doctor said the reflecting light was too distracting."

"Och, of course. Couldn't have possibly been your cleavage that was too distracting," Amy observes with heavy sarcasm.

Donna sniggers. "He made me wear his skinny jacket over it, but the top button wouldn't close. We saved the merpeople with me looking like a call girl!"

-.

There are peals of laughter coming from Donna's room.

The Doctor stands nervously in the hall, until Rory comes upon him. "Have you seen Amy?" Rory asks.

The Doctor points accusingly at the door. "She's in there. This does not bode well, Mr. Pond."

Rory rolls his eyes at the moniker. "She's in Donna's room? Are they finally making friends? That's great!"

"No, no, it really isn't. What we have here is a burgeoning friendship between two gingers. You realize what this means, correct?"

At Rory's blank look, the Doctor flings his arms out. "One was enough to overrule us, two of them are absolutely unstoppable. They could take over the universe if they ever put their minds to it," he says in all seriousness.

Rory is trying not to laugh, really he is. "Then it's a good thing that I can distract one of them," he tells the Doctor, trying for the same serious tone. "I guess it will be up to you to distract the other," he says, pushing by the stunned Doctor.

"I...I – How..." splutters the Doctor, trying to figure out exactly what that means, and then coming to the less-than-innocent conclusion. "I'm _married! _To YOUR DAUGHTER!" he shouts after Rory.

Rory ignores him and continues walking.

"What is wrong with you people!" he demands.

Suddenly, the door in front of him is swinging open and Donna is at the threshold. He blinks. She's wearing that damned diamond-encrusted thing, with The Sheikh of Sands' royal robe tied loosely at her navel. He blinks again, and concentrates on not staring.

"Wait, you're married to their daughter?! You're _kidding!_ That's DISGUSTING!" Donna roars.

That definitely draws his eyes back up from sparkly cleavage. "What? How do you know that?"

"You just screamed it down the hall!"

"Oh, right."

"These are kids!" shouts Donna, arms flapping to indicate Amy, who has come to stand beside her.

"Hey! I'm 25," contests Amy. "Perfectly reasonable time to have a baby!"

"Doctor!" gasps Donna, turning sickly green, so that her hands fly to her mouth as though she's holding back vomit. "Tell me...please please please tell me...that you didn't marry a baby. Having a crush on Rose Tyler was bad enough, but _this_-"

"Donna!" interjects the Doctor loudly, reaching out to grab her hands and hold her still, before she can go off on another dramatic tirade. "It's River Song. Their daughter is River Song. Some...timey-whimey stuff happened... and other technical stuff that you won't let me explain anyway, but suffice to say she is a mature adult."

Donna is silent, inspecting his eyes. "Oh," she finally says, shoulders dropping in relief. "Oh!" she repeats again, this time in seeming surprise at finding the Doctor wed. She carefully draws her hands from his. The Doctor's arms fall limply to his sides.

"So," she begins, as though at a loss. "Er, she caught you, just like she said, did she?" She looks down and realizes how much flesh she's displaying and draws her robe closed, tightening the belt.

"Well there was this fixed point, and then a paradox, so we had to cha-" the Doctor begins, graceless.

Donna's not listening to his fumbling excuses, instead whirling to look at an uncomfortable Amy, standing beside her. "Waitaminute, that means you're his mother-in-law!" she exclaims.

Amy nods. "Yes, it sure does."

"He's your son-in-law!" Donna double checks.

"That's usually how that works," the Doctor growls out.

Donna grasps Amy's shoulders gently, squeezing in sympathy. "My condolences," she says, in all seriousness. Then she moves Amy out of the doorway, steps into her room, and slams her door shut.

Amy and the Doctor observe the door for a while, each lost to their own thoughts.

"Good job," Amy comments finally.

"Shut up, Pond, nobody asked you."

They continue to stare at Donna's closed door for a few seconds more, before Amy pipes up, curiously, "Is this how it was before, Doctor?"

"What do you mean?"

"Seems all you two ever seem to do is quarrel. It's a wonder you got anything done, before."

The Doctor is silent for so long, Amy is sure he's not going to answer. But he finally sighs, long and deep.

"No," the Doctor admits. "Donna and I...for the past me, traveling with Donna was so...so...easy. We could sit in silence for hours, or talk nonstop. It was like she was made to be here, in the TARDIS, with me. Though she wasn't ever afraid to stand up to me or tell me- shout at me, actually - when she thought I was wrong. So yes, we argued, we did, but, for the most part Donna... she was my very best mate."

"Why do you fight now, then?" Amy asks quietly.

He makes a flippant motion with his arm, indicating a 'who knows?' "Any variety of reasons, I would guess."

"Take a stab at a few."

He shuffles his feet around a bit, eyes still trained on the door before him. "I'm different than I was before. Usually am, after a regeneration." His eyes are sad and distant, and he adds, almost to himself, "I wanted to be. I wanted to forget it all, start new somehow." He shrugs again. "Maybe our personalities simply don't mesh as well."

Amy sets a hand on his shoulder in support. "Well you are a right pain in the arse, but we love you anyway," she grins. "And what else?"

He avoids her gaze, shuffles some more.

"Aaaaand?"

"And she's probably still angry at me. About the whole," his hands rotate round his head, to illustrate, "brain thing."

"The 'brain thing' being where you erased her memories and dumped her on earth, that brain thing, right. But you've apologized already, haven't you?"

He turns to her. "Of course not! I saved her life!"

Amy's young face twists in disappointment. "Are you serious?!"

"Nothing to apologize for!"

Her jaw hardens, green eyes giving off fierce sparks. "Gee, now whyever d'you think she's still angry, then. I'd be overjoyed to forget your stupid face!" she bites out, smacking his arm as she turns on her heel to leave him to his denial.

"Awww, look, you're picking up some of Donna's habits already," sighs the Doctor to her retreating back.

* * *

><p>Donna has decided to continue to wear the diamond bra, mostly because it makes her feel pretty. And because it will bother the Doctor, but that's just an added plus. Anyway, she doesn't really want to think about why she feels the need to needle the Doctor just now. Not like her wearing a sparkly bra is going to change his marital status, and of course it isn't a <em>surprise <em>about River but still you'd think after almost a thousand (or more!) years of kicking about the universe he wouldn't have fallen for that old "must fix the paradox" trick, like, couldn't he see that coming from practically a _universe_ away, the big, stupid, oblivious Martian, and -

And no, Donna's not wearing the diamond bra for any of that, she tells herself firmly. She's wearing it because she likes it and because, by some rare engineering miracle, it's surprisingly comfortable and supportive. That's all

She covers it up with a loosely-knit scoop-necked shirt, the glimmer of diamonds twinkling through the fabric or peeking from the top when she shifts, and leaves the comfort of her bedroom to find the rest of the gang.

"Are you still wearing the Mystic Brassiere of the Seven Glimmering Oceans?" immediately asks the Doctor when she joins the rest of the group in the control room.

"Yeah."

"_Why_ are you still wearing it, really, is what I meant."

Donna shrugs a shoulder, and her boobs sparkle through the shirt. "Felt like it."

"It's quite distracting," argues (whines) the Doctor.

"Don't look at it, then."

"Do I have to explain to you the definition of distraction?"

"Do I have to explain to you the definition of my foot up your ars-"

"Oi!"

"OI!"

"Children!" shouts Amy. "Behave yourself or Rory will stop this time machine!"

The Doctor wrinkles his massive brow in disapproval at Donna, and Donna purses her lips at him in displeasure.

"Doctor," commands Amy, "tell Donna you're sorry. And that it's not her fault if you can't keep from staring at her breasts."

The Doctor balks. "I most certainly was not staring at her breasts!"

"Then you can't have been distracted by the diamonds, can you, so there's no problem. Now, take us somewhere nice for lunch."

The Doctor tries to catch Rory's eyes as if to say "See?!" but Rory studiously ignores him.

-.

Lunch, of course, ends with the Doctor, Donna, Amy and Rory caught in a soon-to-explode reactor on some futuristic world. The Doctor is half buried in the guts of the great machine, buzzing away with his sonic. Amy and Rory are holding back the insectoid rebels who have rigged the reactor to blow.

Donna is quite impressed with Amy's aptitude with a broom handle, and Rory is slugging away like a prize fighter. Donna is the second line of defense, keeping the Doctor clear by using a chair to smack away any stray that makes it past Amy or Rory.

"Hurry it up, Doctor!" shouts Donna, caught in a tug of war as a child-sized praying mantis pulls at her chair with its pincers.

"I'm trying not to get my hands burned off by the internal lasers," comes the muffled voice from under the machine, aggrieved.

"Lasers?"

"Secondary security controls - miniaturized roving lasers over the primary switch bypass."

"Are they lasers like in spy movies?" she shouts back at him.

"Yes, Donna, _like in spy movies_," the Doctor's droll reply echoes back. "Now be quiet so I can concentrate."

"Well, what do you need?" she shouts as another minute ticks by, her arms lagging under the continued attack.

"I need for you to be quiet!"

Donna fumes, insulted, and finally gets a solid smack over the rebel's head so it drops unconscious. With an eye on Amy and Rory's continued battle, she reaches under her shirt and undoes the clasp of her bra, slides one arm out and then the other, and pulls the garment free from under her shirt. She squats down by where the Doctor's upper half disappears under the reactor.

"Here!" she shoves the bra through the opening.

"Ouch! Why are you smacking me in the chin with a - OH! Diamond encrusted brassiere! Of course! .. Wait, does this mean you're not wearing a - No, nevermind. Oh, this is perfect!"

The Doctor continues to rhapsodize as Donna goes back to her post, and a minute later the infernal machine belches out a great cloud of black smoke and then a high-pitched, sad whine before the alarms die off and the machine goes utterly silent.

With a great chittering of distress, the rebels retreats, leaving Rory and Amy to collapse against each other, exhausted.

The Doctor, singed and slightly smoking, pulls himself free of the machine with a triumphant smile, only to pick Donna right off her feet and twirl her around.

"Always thinking, my Donna!" he crows. "Saved by lingerie!"

"What lingerie?" asks Rory.

The Doctor sets Donna on her feet but continues to hold on, delighted. "I was able to reflect the lasers away from my hand by wrapping it in Donna's bejeweled unmentionables."

The others finally notice the diamond bra that twinkles from the Doctor's arm, hooked over his wrist. Then the lightbulb seems to click and three of them move their gazes to Donna's chest.

It takes a while for Donna to realize that everyone is still not admiring the bra, and instead are focused on her breasts, unfettered under the thin cotton of her shirt.

"OI!" she roars, crossing an arm over herself and pulling the bra free from the Doctor's arm. She smacks his head with it, for good measure. "Bloody useless lot you all are! Next time I'll let all of you explode!" she thunders, stomping away towards the TARIDS.

The Doctor rubs his head, and catches Rory's smiling face. "What're you smiling at, Pond #2."

"She didn't hit me," Rory points out.

Amy smacks the back of his head with a solid, open-handed thwack. "There you go," she simpers at his pained yowl. "So you don't feel left out." She clomps out the door in a perfect imitation of Donna.

The Doctor turns a knowing eye at Rory. "When they conquer the universe and everyone is forced to worship gingers, I promise to say 'I told you so.'"

* * *

><p><em>to be continued<em>


End file.
